


Heavy Lies the Heart

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Clint has the Patience of a Saint, Drama, Drama & Romance, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nick Fury Knows All, Sex first feelings later, Stubborn Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Coulson had earned Fury's trust by taking calculated risks in the field but every time he did the same in his personal life it never quite worked out, so after a while he just stopped believing that his taking risks would ever be rewarded.





	Heavy Lies the Heart

Coulson didn't do this, in fact he was having real trouble recognising himself in the man who was eagerly peeling off the clothes of a handsome stranger he'd met no more than an hour ago.

The man, dressed in tight jeans and dark checked shirt, had introduced himself as Steve Rogers and it had taken all of Coulson's training to take the name at face value – Theodore Zelanski had most likely never heard of Captain America.

“Which do you prefer?” “Steve” asked, skimming his hands up Coulson's chest as he pulled at his jacket. “Theo or Teddy?”

There was something disarming in the way Steve stripped him, clinical almost if it hadn't been for the press of warm lips against Coulson's skin.

“Theo,” he said, gasping as Steve pushed him to the bed and pulled off his shoes and trousers. Coulson sat up on his elbows, intending to help divest Steve of his final pieces of clothing, but found instead that Steve was gloriously naked, cock hard and leaking, this stranger's body as strong and lithe as Coulson had suspected when they'd bumped into each other in the bar across the road from his motel.

“Theo,” Steve repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue, and then he was manoeuvring Coulson on to his hands and knees and pressing soft kisses into the ridges of Coulson's spine. It was enough to make him bite his bottom lip so he wouldn't say anything inappropriate, or wake up to the fact that he'd just picked up a man and brought him drinks on SHIELD's dime. Sure the mission had been a success and Fury had given him a few days leave before he had to get back to DC, but that wasn't the point.

“How loud do you think you can scream, Theo?” Steve asked, and Coulson sobbed for an answer, because distracting himself by thinking about SHIELD wasn't working and Steve's thick cock was pushing inside of him and gun calloused fingers were wrapping themselves around his cock and Coulson couldn't remember the last time he'd let himself go like this.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve growled, his thumb brushing the tip of Coulson's cock. “You think you can stay up?” he asked, and Coulson nodded, because he recognised the challenge in the other man's voice, even as his arms nearly twitched with the strain.

“Please,” Coulson said, dangerously close to begging.

Steve took his hand away from Coulson's cock and put it gently around Coulson's neck, pulling him backwards and slightly more upright, the angle perfect for sending his cock even deeper into Coulson's body.

“Like that, huh,” Steve whispered, nibbling at the soft skin behind Coulson's ear and squeezing Coulson's neck hard enough to make him gasp; he knew he could get out of Steve's grip if he needed to, but he really, really hoped he wouldn't need to.

Then Steve was moving, fast but gentle, almost fooling Coulson into thinking that he was just taking what he wanted, but too softly considerate of Coulson's needs for that to be entirely true.

Finally they collapsed next to each other, sated and tired and giving new meaning to Coulson's understanding of the phrase well-fucked.

Coulson woke with a start some hours later to find the pillow next to his head lay cold – Steve's eyes clearly hadn't stayed closed long, maybe just waited until Coulson's sleep was deep enough that he could have done whatever he wanted.

The soft pleasure he felt that his trust in this stranger had been rewarded soon turned to a nausea that stayed with him for weeks. For there on the pillow, cool to Coulson's sleepy touch, was a calling card SHIELD was getting far too used to seeing. A playing card, pale purple on one side with just the logo of the print shop opposite the Triskelion visible in one corner, on the other side a purple arrow on a black background.

Hawkeye.

* * * * *

There were days when being one of Fury's right hand people was a blessing – allowing him to get a meeting without an appointment just because he said he had important information. And there were days when being Fury's friend was a definite curse, like when Fury's first question was “who topped?” It said something about Coulson's life that today wasn't the first time both were simultaneously true.

“None of your business,” Coulson said, laying the card down on the table. He'd taken fingerprints himself, but only his own had shown up.

Fury's eye looked amused, then serious.

“When do you think he made you?” he asked, and motioned for Coulson to take a seat. Coulson, whose legs were still wobbly, was grateful to do so.

“Before the bar,” Coulson said, “but I don't know how.”

Their causal bump of shoulders as they both had tried to catch the bartender's eye was no longer seeming quite so casual. Coulson had been played and while he knew he should be angry about it, all he felt was sad. And tired.

Fury's shake of the head was almost sympathetic.

“He'd make a great asset.”

Coulson glared at him but didn't say anything. He knew how long Maria and Jasper had been trying to find out Hawkeye's real identity and bring him in.

“I'll have to tell them,” Fury said, “unless you want to?”

“No,” Coulson said, standing up quickly. “You do it.”

He headed out of Fury's office before Fury could stop him; not that Coulson thought that he'd have tried, but if he didn't look back he could keep up with the pretence that he had.

* * * * *

He didn't see Hawkeye again until six months after their first encounter. This time it was on a dusty rooftop in Algeria and the only reason Coulson didn't put a bullet in him was because he'd just saved a little girl from becoming a drug trafficker's mule.

Still, he shot near him, just for old time's sake. Just to make it clear that what had happened wasn't clouding his judgement. Just to make it clear that he'd do what he had to.

Just who he was making this clear to he wasn't exactly sure.

* * * * *

The phone calls started soon after that. Muffled sounds of music and the occasional car horn beeping. They were only on Coulson's personal line, never his work number.

After the sixth one in as many days Coulson hung up straight away. There weren't any calls after that.

* * * * *

“Don't move,” Coulson growled, startling the baby agent next to him who he'd been taking out on what was supposed to be a milk run. “Hands in the air.”

Hawkeye very slowly did as instructed, his bow slung deceptively casually on his back. Coulson wasn't going to take anything for granted.

“Lopez, tell HQ we have Hawkeye.”

Lopez nearly wet himself, then dropped his radio before picking it up and squawking into it, barely remembering his call sign. Coulson didn't roll his eyes but by the soft movements of Hawkeye's shoulders he could tell the man was silently laughing to himself.

“Chopper will be in in fifteen, sir.”

Coulson nodded. “Hawkeye, sit down,” he said.

Hawkeye did just that, turning to face Coulson, his hands still in the air and then gracefully sat down into the nearest wooden chair. He'd been in a fight recently, one eye slightly bruised, a cut on his lip, the fine sheen of broken glass in his hair. Coulson wished he could find it in himself to say something as cutting, but all he could remember was musky aftershave and the soft scrape of stubble against his cheek.

“Can I put my hands down?” Hawkeye asked, and Coulson remembered the feeling of those hands on his body, the ache he still felt to have them spread him open once more.

“Go ahead,” he said. He still had his weapon trained on Hawkeye but he was tired of having to pretend that everything was all right. Maybe he just hoped to see a flicker of concern in Hawkeye's eyes, but all he saw was laughter.

“Have we met?” Hawkeye asked, quizzical furrow on his brow.

“Lopez, you got this?” Coulson asked, suddenly needing fresh air. Before Lopez could react Coulson was stepping outside, taking in a lungful of what passed for fresh air in South Korea. He rested his head back against the door, listening for any signs of trouble even while imagining what Maria would say when she learned he'd left a barely graduated from the Academy agent alone with one of the world's most sought after assassins. The fact that he was only assassinating the people SHIELD had been planning on assassinating was neither here nor there.

When he stepped back into the room Lopez was still standing over Clint, his gun trained on him but with the safety on.

“He was making me nervous,” Hawkeye said, “so I suggested the safety in case he accidentally shot himself.”

Coulson had seen Lopez scores on the firing range and could well believe in the probability of him doing himself more damage than anyone else, so he just nodded and took a seat just out of reach of Hawkeye.

“Why don't you wait outside?” Coulson suggested, and Lopez dashed off to do just that.

“I'm sorry,” Hawkeye said, as soon as Lopez was out of the room. “That crack about meeting you before – it was out of line.”

Coulson dared to look at Hawkeye's face. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel when he realised that Hawkeye was telling the truth.

“It's Clint,” he said after a moment. “Clint Barton”.

Coulson nodded, but didn't introduce himself.

* * * * *

There was a noticeable buzz in the air as they brought Clint into the nearest safe house. They spent the whole helicopter and then van ride there in silence but even so, Coulson's nerves were frayed.

“I've got him from here,” Maria said, and Coulson gratefully handed him over. He knew what was coming, the spiel about SHIELD being the last defence against the weird and the wonderful, the talk of Clint's unique skill set and then the offer of a job. Coulson had already made it clear to Fury that he wouldn't be Clint's handler under any circumstances, but Fury had a habit of ignoring anything he didn't care to hear.

Coulson went outside and walked to the edge of the ravine, staring down at the fast running water.

“Don't tell me he's got you that worked up?” Jasper asked and Coulson took a step away from the edge.

“Hardly.” He frowned as he spotted another helicopter on its way to land. “Who's that?”

“Fury's going to do the job offer himself,” Jasper explained. “This one's special. Though I guess you already know that,” Jasper grinned, all teeth, and then went off at a trot to greet Fury.

Yes, Coulson thought, I'm rather afraid he is.

* * * * *

Coulson was a country boy at heart and missed the way the stars were so much brighter when there weren't any skyscrapers or military facilities getting in the way. He'd found himself a quiet spot to nurse what he'd promised himself would be his first and last beer of the night, leaning back against a tree on slightly damp grass.

“May I?” Clint asked, and sat down next to him before he could tell him to leave. “I really am sorry.”

“So I've heard.”

“I didn't – I didn't meant to upset you. I don't - I don't know what I was thinking other than to have some fun with a suit.”

Coulson remained silent, steadfastly staring straight ahead.

“Fury says you're going to be my handler,” Clint said after a few minutes of silence. “This going to be a problem?”

Coulson had known better than to hope that Fury wouldn't have done that, but it still would have been nice to have been asked beforehand.

“If Fury says so, I'm sure it will be fine.”

Clint hummed, unconvinced. “I regretted leaving my calling card the minute I'd done it. I nearly went back and lay down again. You'd just – you went to _sleep_ Coulson. No one's ever trusted me like that. But I told myself I couldn't afford to get involved. I thought it was just going to be a quick fuck, get another one over the alphabet stooge that had been chasing me.” Coulson could feel Clint's eyes on him but continued to look stubbornly straight ahead. “I didn't expect to want to get to know you better,” Clint added. “You know that I'd been keeping track of you?”

Coulson nodded. He might not have mentioned it in any official reports, but he'd known since that first day that Clint had eyes on him. It had been weirdly comforting in a way Coulson had refused to analyse.

“I wouldn't have agreed to join SHIELD if I didn't believe in what you're doing.”

As this was annoyingly the thing that Coulson most wanted to hear he just sighed and and closed his eyes. By the time he opened them again, Clint was gone.

* * * * *

Coulson was a professional, no matter what Maria Hill thought. It was hard to remember that when she kept on putting tequila in front of him; he hated tequila, and yet as she'd already pointed out more than once, he kept on drinking it.

It was nearly a year to the day that Clint had been recruited into SHIELD and he'd already skipped ahead four levels and proven his worth ten times over. He and Coulson also made a fantastic team and there hadn't been even a hint that anyone outside of the usual suspects knew how the pair of them had first met.

Coulson really wished he wasn't a professional.

“What are we celebrating?” Jasper asked, sliding into the seat opposite Coulson and dragging a bemused Clint after him.

Maria called for more shot glasses and poured more of the tequila on the table than she got into the glasses. Coulson wasn't fooled though; he'd seen Maria drunk and she was nowhere near yet.

Clint took an offered shot and saluted Coulson. Coulson, as always, felt Clint's gaze warming his skin and tried not to let anything show on his face.

“We,” said Maria, beating a drum roll on the table with the palm of her hands, “are celebrating Coulson's promotion.”

Coulson blinked. “We are?”

“The official letter is waiting in your office ready for your signature in the morning, but since even you're not idiot enough to refuse, Level 7 it is.”

Coulson smiled, a little relieved. He had no reason to worry about it, but still, it was good to have it confirmed.

“Congratulations, boss,” Clint said, knocking their shoulders together.

Coulson tried to still his beating heart and smile like he'd taught himself every morning for a month; Clint was just a colleague, nothing more.

“This calls for champagne!” Jasper said grinning like a man who'd started drinking way earlier than the rest of them.

“Good idea,” Maria agreed, pushing Jasper out of the booth. “Be right back.”

Given that she followed this up by winking at Coulson, he felt justified in downing two shots in quick succession that burned the back of his throat but at least made him feel up for being left alone with Clint.

“I could go?” Clint whispered, hot breath ghosting against his ear. “It was Jasper's idea, I was just going to head home anyway.”

“No,” Coulson said, quickly, “I don't – I mean if you want to go, you can...” He turned to Clint and groaned as Clint moved the last few inches and kissed him, his hand coming up to cup the back of Coulson's head and keep him there, though right then Coulson had no intention of going anywhere.

They broke apart, breathing heavily, resting their foreheads together.

“We shouldn't...we _can't_...” Coulson tried to say, very aware that they were in a packed bar.

“Why not?” Clint asked. “Jasper invited me. Maria invited him. Stands to reason...”

“They're not subtle,” Coulson agreed. “But we, this is just too...”

Clint kissed him silent. “I know what you feel like when you come apart,” Clint whispered. “Do you really think there's been a day since then that I haven't thought about it? That I haven't read the rules and regulations handbook inside and out?”

Coulson shifted back a little, trying to give himself space enough to think.

“Fury said you were stubborn enough that it would take at least a year for you to consider it,” Clint continued, “and just dumb enough that it would take at least another before you believed that I wanted more than one night.”

“When did he...?”

“The day he recruited me.”

Coulson closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me that isn't the reason you...”

“Wow, ego much?” Clint asked, with a grin so Coulson would know he was joking. “I signed up because I believe in the good SHIELD can do. Getting to know you better was just a bonus.”

Clint moved to put his hand on Coulson's thigh and then changed his mind and put it in his own lap. “I guess Fury knows you pretty well, huh?” he said after a moment. “We can just be friends if that's what you want.”

“You shouldn't -” Coulson turned to look at the drink stained table so that he wouldn't have to look at Clint. “You shouldn't wait for me.”

A heavy silence fell between them broken only when Clint finally moved out of the booth and walked away.

When Jasper and Maria returned fifteen minutes later Coulson was still staring down at the table.

“You're really something, you know that, Phil?” Maria said, and then she helped him get really, really drunk.

* * * * *

Things went back to normal after that. Coulson worked more with the new recruits but he still requested Hawkeye's help when it was operationally necessary. He turned down more offers to go drinking with Maria and Jasper than he accepted and only got himself shot the once.

Of course, as he was lying in a stark hospital room with a shattered femur he had plenty of time to acknowledge that he had been lying to himself pretty ineffectually for the past year. He wasn't sure whether it was better or worse that Clint had been the one to shoot him in the leg. Of course it had stopped him from being decapitated which was definitely a good thing in anybody's book, but it had meant that he and Clint had been separated so that SHIELD's Friendly Fire incident reporting policy could be fully implemented and he hadn't been allowed to talk to anybody about what had happened yet, not even the medical staff.

“You're a god damn fool, Coulson,” Fury said as way of greeting, marching into the room and coming to an abrupt stop at the foot of Coulson's bed. Coulson, who'd just been considering trying to sleep, opened his eyes briefly and then shut them again. Fury sighed and pulled a chair over next to his bed, sitting down with a crinkle of leather.

“Hottest day of the year and you couldn't even break out a t-shirt?” Coulson asked, his eyes still closed.

“Pot, kettle,” Fury replied, though Coulson could hear the smirk in his voice. “How bad?”

“You think the doctors told me something they didn't tell you?” Coulson asked, giving in to the inevitable and opening his eyes.

“They don't tell me how you're actually feeling,” Fury said.

Coulson shrugged. “It was a clean shot. The operation went fine. I'll be laid up for a while but you wanted me out of the field to look over the Avengers Initiative anyway, so I suppose it all works out.”

A one eyed Fury can be as terrifying as a pissed off two-eyed Maria Hill on any given day, but Coulson had known him far too long by now to worry about the glare currently being sent his way.

“You're my one good eye Phil, but I swear to god you're a dumbass when it comes to your personal life.”

Coulson sighed. “Nick...”

“Don't Nick me you asshole, just stop making yourself miserable.” Fury got up abruptly, scraping the chair along the floor. “You've got two weeks then I'm shipping Barton to Norway for a month.”

“What's in Norway?” Coulson asked.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

And with that he was gone and Coulson had only his own thoughts for company.

* * * * *

Coulson woke up to a press of warm lips against his own.

“Are you my Prince Charming?” he asked, smiling as Clint took a few steps back.

“Depends how pissed off you are that I shot you.”

“If you really think I'd be mad at you for saving my life, this is going to be over before it starts.”

“This?”

“Well, the general consensus seems to be that I've been an idiot.”

“To be fair, I did start it,” Clint said, failing to keep the smile off his face.

“I'd quite like to end it then, if that's all right with you?”

“More than,” Clint replied, leaning down for another kiss. He slowly moved away and Coulson realised that he'd left his go back by the door.

“I thought you weren't heading out yet?”

“Fury told you?”

“Just that you were going to Norway. He wouldn't tell me what you were going to be doing.”

Clint's expression turned serious. “The timelines moved up. There's a chopper on the roof waiting for me....it's the Black Widow.”

Coulson could feel the colour drain from his face. She'd been on SHIELD's radar for years now, their most wanted target since they'd recruited Clint.

“Who's going with you?”

“Reid, Singh and Vassilov. And Jasper's running things from base.” He picked up his bag and opened the door. “I'll be fine. It's a better team than I usually get lumbered with.”

Coulson snorted. This was a running joke since Clint had run rings around the first team he'd been assigned and now he only got paired with the best of the best.

“Still, stay in contact with your team and don't do anything crazy.”

“Who, me?” Clint asked, the picture of innocence. His phone beeped and he started to leave. “Okay, got to go. I'll see you in a few weeks.”

Coulson nodded and then Clint was gone.

He wouldn't see him again for another nine months.

* * * * *

Coulson had been walking without the use of a cast or cane for a while now but he still occasionally found himself reaching for some extra support for his leg when he was particularly tired. Right now he was running on empty and trying to lean against Jasper Sitwell's desk without making it look like that was what he was doing.

“When?”

“67 minutes ago,” Jasper said, “nope, 68”.

Coulson bit back his retort. He was trying to get answers and he knew he wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't butter Jasper up at least a little.

“I really appreciate you keeping me in the loop,” Coulson said.

“A case of Scotch and I can forget to log out of my computer for ten minutes.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Jasper said, “that's why it's just the one case.”

Coulson nodded and Jasper grinned and shot out of his chair, disappearing in the direction of the canteen. Coulson gently lowed himself into the vacated seat and started pulling up the records he wanted.

As Jasper had indicated Clint had been in the building for just over an hour now and he hadn't been alone. He and the Black Widow had handed themselves in to a rookie team on a milk run in Kiev and from that moment on Coulson had been kept out of the loop, all his access to the interrogation rooms cut off and all files on Clint and the Black Widow restricted to Fury's eyes only.

What Jasper had access to that he didn't though was the surveillance footage from when they first stepped inside the building. Coulson found the right time and zoomed in. He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly, but all he saw were two exhausted people on edge. Clint glanced at the camera once but then didn't look at it again; Widow appeared not to notice it at all, though Coulson was confident that was just an act.

They were alive though, in one piece. Coulson raised his finger to the screen and then away again. The two of them were staying close together, shoulders occasionally brushing. Coulson had feared that Clint was dead. He wasn't sure if this was much better.

He shut down the computer and moved to stand up just as two security guards marched over to him.

“Director Fury requests your presence, sir.”

Coulson nodded and followed them out of Jasper's office; he knew very well that Fury never requested anything.

He ignored the curious glances of the staff they met on their way and pretended indifference as he was made to wait in the ante room with the guards stationed outside the door. He made himself a cup of coffee after it became clear no one was going to come for him after ten minutes and after thirty had passed he kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, folded it under his head, and lay down to sleep down on the couch.

* * * * * *

Coulson wasn't sure what made him blink awake but when he did it was to find a red-headed assassin sitting on the floor near his head. She didn't appear to be armed but Coulson wasn't about to do anything that would prove that one way or the other.

“Clint said I should let you sleep.”

“Black Widow, I presume,” Coulson said and slowly sat upright, making sure to telegraph his moves; he felt rather like he was in the sights of a cobra coiled to strike.

She blinked twice, which Coulson took for confirmation.

“Where's Agent Barton?”

“Gone for Chinese.”

Coulson nodded slowly. If Black Widow was there and Clint was out getting food then clearly their meeting with Fury had gone well. Knowing that crazy son of a bitch she was probably SHIELD's latest recruit.

“Fury said you're going to be my new handler.”

“Of course he did,” Coulson replied. He ran a hand over his face and loosened his tie.

“You're not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah,” Coulson said, “I get that a lot.”

“Natasha Romanov,” she said, looking amused. Coulson didn't know why, but he felt like he'd passed some sort of test.

“Pleased to meet you, Natasha,” Coulson said. “Is there a reason why you're sitting on the floor?”

“No,” she said with a smile like a cat who'd had her fill of cream, “not really.” And so saying she got up and sat in the armchair opposite, her eyes never seeming to leave his but he was in no doubt that she could have described the room and all of its contents without hesitating if he'd asked.

Just as Coulson was trying to work out how to frame the question as to what was going on, Clint strolled into the room, arms laden with bags.

“Oh, hey, you're awake, great....” Clint barely stopped to pass the bags off to Natasha before he kneeled down in front of Coulson. “So I get it, your pissed, and I understand that, I do, and yeah, we can sort that out later but I just...okay, let me just....”

And then he pulled Coulson into a kiss. What Coulson probably should have done was push Clint away and scream at him for scaring him like that, for disobeying a direct order, for dropping completely off the grid, but instead he moaned into the kiss and desperately pulled Clint closer. It wasn't until they heard Natasha noisily laying the take out onto the table that they moved apart.

“I hadn't expected you to be as strange as Clint,” Natasha said. “My impression was that you were the sensible one.”

Coulson smiled at Clint and then glanced over at Natasha. “Being sensible is an overrated commodity in SHIELD.”

“How else would I have got in?” Clint asked, with a grin.

“True,” Natasha said, handing over chopsticks to the pair of them. “That does make a lot of sense.”

* * * * * *

There was a lot of grumbling in the lower ranks that Natasha was being shown favourable treatment, but as soon she beat the assault course record and the hand to hand combat record by ten and four minutes respectively, the grumbling stopped.

Coulson and Clint went on their first proper date three months after Clint's return. Coulson had insisted on that amount of time, saying that the kiss notwithstanding they had to be sure this is what they wanted. Clint thought it was completely unnecessary, but went ahead with it, only filling Coulson's office with red roses and balloons the once in what he told Coulson later that week was a demonstration of his affection and not an attempt to win the dare Jasper had set. The fact that that was also the case was according to Clint a complete coincidence.

“Come on,” Clint wheedled, “come inside”. It was their third date and Clint was pouting, and resting his hands on Coulson's hips. “Are you really, honestly telling me that you're having second thoughts?”

“Of course not,” Coulson said.

“Well, then what's the problem?”

Coulson opened his mouth and then closed it just as abruptly. “I'm not sure there is one,” he said after a moment's thought.

Clint throw his arms up in mock frustration. “Then why are we standing here in the corridor when we could be....”

Coulson started kissing him to shut him up and pushed him back through the door, kicking it shut with one foot and then manoeuvring Clint around the mess of his flat into his bedroom.

“Now this is what I'm talking about,” Clint panted, pulling at Coulson's jacket.

“Impatient,” Coulson chided with a smile, his fingers brushing against Clint's erection still clothed in his jeans.

“I have the patience of a saint,” Clint replied breathlessly as Coulson pushed him backwards onto the bed to get better access in order to pull off Clint's jeans and shoes.

“I'm going to tell Tasha you said that.”

Clint's reply was lost in a moan as Coulson's mouth was finally on him and he could feel Coulson's laugh reverberating through his body. There was no way Clint was going to last and he tried to tell that to Coulson but Coulson's hands joined his mouth and before he knew it he was bucking up into Coulson's mouth and the world narrowed down to just the feel and smell of Coulson as he came apart, hard.

When Coulson moved up to lie next to a panting Clint he was looking particularity smug. Clint would have mocked him for it, if he didn't feel quite so sated.

“Worth waiting for?” Coulson asked.

Clint leaned forward and kissed him, licking the taste of himself from the corner of Coulson's mouth. “I'm not the one that wanted to wait, remember?”

Coulson hummed contentedly and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I know I only have myself to blame.” He turned his head a little and stared at Clint. “Forgive me?”

“I was an ass first,” Clint said. “And I did kind of disappear on you. I think we're even.” He paused and then started to grin. “Well, mostly.”

Before Coulson could ask what he meant Clint kissed his way down Coulson's chest and thighs, nosing softy at Coulson's erection which twitched with interest. As Clint's mouth and hands began to send him over the edge Coulson vowed that he wasn't going to let his own stubbornness get in the way of his happiness again, and Clint would always have his patience rewarded.


End file.
